


Only Natural

by ReadablePlot



Category: Supernatural
Genre: AU, Angst, Case Fic, Destiel - Freeform, Detective Dean Winchester, Doctor Castiel, Drama, M/M, Romance, basically supernatural things don't exist in this AU, hence the really lame title
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-03-13
Updated: 2014-03-12
Packaged: 2018-01-15 13:23:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,140
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1306405
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ReadablePlot/pseuds/ReadablePlot
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Detective Dean Winchester is called on to investigate the second so-called "vampire killing" in Lawrence. He arrives at the station to find person-of-interest Castiel Novak in the interrogation room. Dean suspects they may have the wrong guy, but as evidence continues to mount against Cas, can he prove his innocence?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Only Natural

**Author's Note:**

> First things first:
> 
> This is an AU where supernatural entities are not real. The murders are just being called vampire killings because of the marks on the victims (and for my own amusement, really). Dean is a detective, Cas is a doctor, and hopefully things are pretty self-explanatory from there.
> 
> Thanks for reading.

“You’re kidding me,” Dean said, eyeing the suspect incredulously. “This guy? Really?”

The other detectives just shrugged and continued watching the accused through the one-way glass. The man sat with his hands folded on the table, and he looked like he was fighting to stay awake and alert – his appearance more that of a kid trying to stay up on New Year’s than that of a cold-blooded killer.

“Dude looks like he goes around picking up stray kittens in thunderstorms, and you think he’s some sort of vampire?”

“Can’t say I disagree with you, kid, but we caught him red-handed. Literally,” said a gruff voice from just behind Dean, who turned to face his partner. “Everything looks pretty open-and-shut here, unless you reckon you can come up with a reason Shifty Eyes in there didn’t do it.”

“Bobby, come on. When you called to say you had someone in custody, I expected some serious serial killer vibes. That guy,” he said, motioning to the interrogation room and the man now slumped at the table within it, “does not strike me as the murdering type.”

“Anyone can be ‘the murdering type’ with the right motivation,” chimed in another detective. She ran a hand through her hair before quietly adding, “We just haven’t figured out what that motivation is yet.”

“Fair enough. So who gets first crack at our vampire-murderer-slash-kitten-rescuer?”

“First crack? Jo and I already talked to Shifty. Nothing would ever get done around here if the two of us sat around waiting for our lesser halves to show up.”

“I was busy!” Dean said, holding his hands up in mock defense.

“Busy,” Jo smirked. “Surprised you managed to get here so quick and still have the time to zip your fly.”

“Well,” Dean retorted, making his way into the interrogation room, “I may be late, but you’re doing more detective work about my crotch than you are about the case. Just saying.”

Jo scoffed, and Dean, having turned his back and headed into the next room as he spoke, missed the slight blush that crept across her cheeks. Bobby heaved a sigh that held the weight of the world. Well, the weight of a team filled with incredible investigators who also happened to be incredibly frustrating. He glanced at Jo, who was now watching Dean through the pane of glass with her usual level of composure, save for the tiniest hint of a smile that played at the corners of her mouth.

“Get out of here and go find your partner. You two need to try and dig up a motive. General weirdness and a bit of blood ain’t enough to make an arrest.”

“Okay, we’re on it.”

“Good. And you make sure Garth has a damn good excuse for not being here this morning.”

“Will do,” Jo called, waving a hand as she exited the room.

Bobby turned back to the window to observe the interrogation.

* * *

There was something about this guy. Dean couldn’t put his finger on why, but his gut told him this was not a man capable of murder. Certainly not the cold-blooded premeditation of the recent vampire killings. How was he even a suspect? Wait. Shit. _Why was this guy a suspect?_

Too late, Dean realized that he had wandered in without even looking at the file. He didn’t have a name, let alone a line of questioning. Forget good cop/ bad cop. He was going to end up playing clueless cop.

“So, Mr. Uhh—,” he began eloquently.

“Novak,” the man answered, and Dean was taken aback by the gravel in his voice, the roughness of the sound such a stark contrast to the softness Dean perceived in him. “Castiel Novak.”

“Right. I’m Detective Winchester. Just got a few questions for you, Castiel Novak. Hm. Weird name.”

“My friends call me ‘Cas,’” the man offered, meeting Dean’s eyes as he hovered beside his chair.

“Right, because that’s normal. Anyway, I’ll stick with Mr. Novak.” Dean stepped away, making to pace the small room. _I haven’t seen puppy-dog eyes like that since Sammy was a kid. Either this dude had nothing to do with the murder, or he’s the most dangerous bastard I’ve ever seen._ “So, Mr. Novak, where were you on the evening of September 5 th?” Dean’s voice was brusque and clipped, the professional voice he always used to put clear distance between himself and people of interest.

“I was at home, on call. But I don’t understand why you’re asking me this again; I already told all of this to the other detectives.”

“I like to gather my information firsthand.” _On call. So he’s a doctor then. Of course._ Dean studied Castiel’s face as he considered his next question. He just didn’t look the part. His face was too open; he looked at Dean with an earnestness that seemed to lay his very soul bare. And Dean couldn’t shake the odd desire that he had to cover it up, to protect that soul from the world. He pulled himself out of his stupor and instead asked how long Castiel had been a doctor, where he worked, and what his specialty was. As he absorbed the answers (six years, Lawrence Memorial, cardiology), he looked for any hint of guilt in the other man’s features. He found none. He didn’t have killer eyes. Well, truth be told, he _did_ have killer eyes, but of a different sort; his eyes were a stunning deep blue that frankly gave him an unfair advantage in the puppy-dog eyes department. Dean shook out the errant thought – what the hell was _wrong_ with him today – and tuned back in to the fact that the suspect definitely did not have the eyes of a killer. They weren’t cold or disconnected, more like confused. Wary.

“What is your next question?” Castiel’s voice jarred Dean out of his inspection of the other man’s face. Clearly he had been staring for too long. Castiel continued to regard him with cautious eyes, unsure if or when he would be confronted with the borderline aggressive questioning he had received earlier.

* * *

Cas was a good doctor. And he tried to be a good person. He certainly wasn’t a murderer. But he knew that he did not handle interaction with other people in the best possible way, and he assumed it was why he was still in questioning hours after being picked up from the hospital.

The first two detectives, a pretty blond and a scruffy-looking older man, had arrived at the hospital less than five minutes after Castiel. Yvonne, a nurse he was on good terms with, had called to ask him to assist because the acting cardiologist had suddenly taken ill. _Probably the tuna salad from the cafeteria_ , she had joked. So, like any other day, Cas had gotten dressed and come in to work. But he arrived to find the hospital in a panic, with someone just outside the doors laying in a pool of her own blood, two puncture wounds in her neck and too many doctors scrambling around her without any individual clearly in charge.

“Let me through,” he called loudly, starting to push his way through the crowd and bumping into the occasional bystander. At the authority in his voice, the swarm of people finally parted, giving him access to the young woman on the ground. The sight shocked him. Her wounds were made by a phlebotomy needle, he was sure of it. He took her pulse just to be safe and confirmed his suspicion, based on the sheer amount of blood and the fact that none of the other doctors were rushing to help her, that she was already dead, a fact which at least explained the general chaos. These people knew what to do with a sick person, but a murdered one was a different story.

“Has anyone called the police yet?” He looked up as he asked the question, trying not to think about just how long it would take a heart to pump all of someone’s blood out of holes so small. The crowd was mostly full of blank, frightened faces, but a few people nodded in answer, and Yvonne told him that they should be there any minute. As he moved to stand up, he slipped in slight and found his fingertips touching the edge of the blood puddle that had formed around the victim. He pulled his hand away and stood fully, wiping his hand off on his coat reflexively. _Oh. The police will probably want that now,_ he thought to himself. _I liked this coat._

“All right, I need everyone to move away – and be careful not to disturb the body – but stay in the general area. You’ll each need to give your statements to one of these officers,” announced a woman who flashed a badge identifying her as Detective Jo Harvelle of Lawrence PD. The uniformed officers quickly got to work setting up crime scene tape and taking statements as she and the other plain-clothes detective moved towards the body.

Castiel watched them for a moment before he was approached by an officer and directed to give his account of what had happened. He explained in as much detail as he could, telling the young man about being called in, checking for a pulse, noting the shape and size of the wounds, and slipping just a bit into the blood. The officer nodded, thanked him, and moved back to speak with the detectives.

“You got anything for us, kid?”

“That guy,” answered the officer. “He’s way too calm, and he’s got shifty eyes. Plus there’s blood on his hands. I mean, he has an explanation, but something about him just doesn’t feel right.”

“All right, we got it from here. Thanks, Kev.”

Cas couldn’t hear their exchange, but he was soon beckoned over to the detectives and asked to return to the station with them for further questioning.

Bobby called Dean when they got in, informing him of a new vic with a vampire bite and a person of interest in custody.

* * *

The man in the holding room shifted in his seat nervously, glancing around with looks of mild concern which devolved into tiredness and boredom as more time passed.

“All right, I’d say we let him stew long enough. Let’s get in there.”

Jo nodded and followed Bobby into the small room.

Castiel looked up as the pair entered. The detectives had said next to nothing as they drove Cas to the station, and by this time he knew they must be more than a little suspicious of him. But he was also well aware of his own innocence and that there couldn’t possibly be any compelling evidence against him. Yet when Detective Harvelle entered, her mouth was set into a thin, hard line. Detective Singer hovered in the doorway, allowing her to take the lead, and Cas got the distinct impression that he was seeing the calm before the storm.

“Castiel Novak,” began Jo. “Care to explain just how your hands came to be covered in blood?”

“They weren’t.” Even to his own ears, Cas’s voice came out rough. He cleared his throat and tried to make his tone more collected and less exhausted. “I had bent down to check for signs of life. Finding none, I stood up, and my hand slipped into a pool of blood. That’s when you arrived.”

“And what was your relationship to the victim?”

Castiel blinked. “I never met her.”

“You might want to try again, seeing as we already know that’s total bullshit.”

“What do you mean? I am quite certain I had never spoken to that young woman before. Or at all, really, because she was dead when I got to the hospital.”

Bobby cut in coldly, “We’re ‘quite certain’ you’re trying to cover your tracks. And doing a god-awful job of it, far as I can tell.”

“I don’t understand. Was she a former patient? Sometimes I don’t get to meet them before they get to the operating table.”

Jo sighed exasperatedly. “How stupid do you think we are? Bobby here happens to be lead detective. And I don’t do too bad myself.”

Cas looked between the two, wondering why they seemed so convinced he was involved. “I am not questioning your intelligence. I would just like to know what evidence you claim to have which links me to this woman.”

“We ‘claim to have’ a picture of her.”

“A picture one of our officers found in the pocket of your coat, which you were kind enough to let us process as evidence. Thanks for that, by the way.”

“So how do you explain that, Dr. Novak?” Bobby asked mockingly.

Cas was stunned. “I… can’t.”

* * *

And so it began, culminating in the meeting of person of interest Castiel Novak and Inspector Dean Winchester.

**Author's Note:**

> Okay. Well. I hope you enjoyed that. If you did, kudos or comments would be delightful.
> 
> Also, I am super open to suggestions about things you would like to see happen or characters you want to pop up at some point. And fair warning that I am much more likely to update if I get a response from readers than otherwise, not because I desperately need your attention (though it doesn't hurt), but because I have school things going on and sometimes need to get virtually kicked to get back to work on my writing. Sorry in advance for that.


End file.
